Gone
by Jedi Princess Jainakin
Summary: When a loved one is lost, how do you move on? How do you cope when they're gone? A collection of related one-shots from the POVs of specific characters surrounding Stoick's death and the aftermath of Drago's destruction of Berk.
1. Part I: Warrior

**a.n. Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic for _How To Train Your Dragon_ so I hope I did the fandom justice! I just couldn't sleep after I saw the sequel the first time (advanced screening the night before) so I had to write this down. **I just really enjoyed the movie and wanted to get something out that expressed my feelings on it; this is it. **This story will be centered on _that_ scene from the movie (you know which one I'm talking about) and the aftermath that follows. That being said, there is a MAJOR SPOILER for the movie because of that particular scene, so if you haven't seen it and you don't want to be spoiled, now's your chance to get out of here. This story is really more of a collection of one-shots than a full-fledged story (you'll see what I'm talking about once I get a couple of chapters posted). I don't have a strict post schedule; I'll post when I get a chance to write them. I've planned to write ten chapters for this and they probably won't be very long based on how I'm structuring this story. Anyways, I hope you read, review, and enjoy! I look forward to reading your thoughts on this story!**

**DISCLAIMER: **I own nothing in this story except the idea. All characters, places, actions, etc. are property of Dreamworks, Cressida Cowell, and whomever else may own them. I only dream of escaping to Berk and riding my own dragon one day.

* * *

**Part I: Warrior**

Gone.

That was the only word he could use to describe what had happened. One moment he was there and the next he was just…gone.

Hiccup crouched behind his father's body, tears threatening to fall as he just sat there in shocked silence. He barely registered his mother moving to his side to place an ear on her beloved's chest, searching for some sign of life within his still warm flesh. He could feel her lean back up in resignation as she accepted the truth. He turned sad eyes towards her, refusing to believe what she already had:

Stoick the Vast was dead.

Gone.

Taken to Valhalla, never to return. Never to set eyes on his son again. Never to set foot on Berk again.

Never to dance with his beloved Valka again.

No one would ever hear the booming voice of his commands or the bellowing laughter of his amusement or the soft affection of his love ever again. The world had lost a warrior, a leader, a friend, a husband.

A father.

He was called many things by many people: Stoick the Vast. Stoick the Bold. Stoick the Brave. Stoick the Strong. Friend. Chief. Berkian. Dragon rider. But no moniker was more important to him than the ones given to him by the two who had loved him most: Husband. Father. And that pair sat by his side together and silently mourned the man they knew, the man they loved.

It was only moments before Astrid joined Hiccup, taking her place at his right side. She tried to offer whatever comfort she could to the young man beside her, but it was to no avail. His grief overwhelmed him too much to even notice her usually comforting presence next to him. But she stayed there by his side, as she had silently vowed to herself once. She would always be by his side, no matter what.

Gobber took his place to stand near Valka, looking down at his longtime friend. The man he had cherished above all others, the one to whom he owed his allegiance, his very life. They had been friends for many years and he had loved Stoick like a brother. To see him now, like this, it broke his heart and he shed a very un-Viking-like tear as he mourned the loss of such a great man. He couldn't care less if anyone saw him cry.

It was quiet as the other Berk riders approached, solemn looks on all of their faces. All of them grieved with the family before them. They, too, had lost someone dear to them. He had been their chief, their leader, the one whom they followed and rallied behind. He had helped lead them through both war and peace. He had helped them forge a new society where both man and dragon could coexist together in amity. He had helped to lead them into a new era of harmony and prosperity. And he had fought to ensure that that harmony and peace would always find a place in their world. He had fought, to his dying breath, to protect his family, his son, from the evils of the world. He would be missed and they all tried, unsuccessfully, to hold in their tears.

Soon, a new figure tried to join them and his wide black head approached cautiously, his bright green eyes full of confusion. He neared the gathered group and made his way towards the still figure on the ground. He could tell that this man, his rider's father, a man he had once hated and had come to begrudgingly respect, was injured and it was hurting his rider. Whatever comfort he could give to the young Viking he would if it would ease the hurt he saw in the boy's eyes. Toothless lowered his head and stretched it towards the massive hand in front of him, hoping the older man would accept his gesture and show everyone that he was all right, show Hiccup that all was well. A harsh rebuke from the mourning young man, his rider, his best friend, his other half, turned that confusion to sorrow. The dragon's eyes grew wide in recognition and surprise as he was pushed away from the tearful youth, anger lacing his voice. It was only a moment later that he realized what had happened and his part in it. He hung his head low and looked to the group; all of them wore sad looks on their faces. All but the boy. His face held nothing but anger and grief. The Night Fury stepped back and let his boy mourn in peace, his cat-like green eyes full of sorrow, regret and the hope of forgiveness.

But Hiccup was too filled with anger to care. It was his fault! He had killed him! His father would still be alive if it hadn't been for Toothless. Subconsciously, he knew that it really hadn't been the dragon's fault. Toothless would never hurt Stoick, not after everything they had been through, everything they had faced. He had been under the control of Drago's Bewilderbeast who had issued the command at the behest of his evil master. Toothless couldn't help himself and looking at his face, Hiccup knew the dragon was filled with remorse. His own emotions, however, were just everywhere and he couldn't think straight. He had just lost his father, the one person he had always been able to rely on, the one person who had been there since the day he was born. He couldn't handle that and his grief-addled mind lashed out and attacked the nearest thing it could find to place the blame. He knew it was wrong, that Toothless didn't deserve it, that the loyal Night Fury would accept the undeserved abuse because he knew his friend was hurting. He didn't care though. All he wanted was his father back.

Valka watched as her words, that good dragons only do bad things when they are controlled by bad people, fell on deaf ears. Her son was too emotional to hear her and while she couldn't blame him, she was worried about his actions now towards Toothless. She saw the look of regret in the dragon's eyes, saw how ashamed he was when he realized what he had done. He felt truly horrible about it; there was no reason for her son to make his dragon feel worse. She too was hurting and her son's outburst, coupled with the sorrowful look in Toothless' eyes, was almost too much to bear. Yet, she tried to stay strong for her beloved, for her son, to show him that everything would be all right, to prove to him that there was no one to blame but Drago.

The young Viking didn't hear her and he pushed the black reptile away, his rage too strong for him to see reason, his mind too clouded to think clearly. The poor dragon stepped away to give his rider some space before he once again fell under the spell of Drago's terrible beast and was taken by the madman. Valka had seen the regret in Hiccup's eyes as he watched his dragon get taken by the vile man; it was the same look she had seen in the Night Fury's eyes when he had realized what he had done. Both creatures, two halves of a greater whole, were hurting but neither had the chance to apologize or comfort the other, the boy too distraught at the loss of his father and the forced seizure of his partner and the dragon too confused and bewildered to help his boy grieve.

Stoick the Vast was gone. The light of this great warrior was extinguished. His last sacrifice as the world crumbled around him saved the only hope to rebuild that world. Darkness was encroaching upon the peace he had helped create and with his bright flame gone, the dark had the advantage.

Yet, a light still burned.

A small flame flickered and grew within the heart of another. The great chief's life was over, but his legacy would live on and its fire would burn stronger and brighter than any ever had before. The dark would be vanquished, the light would return, and the union of man and dragon would be whole once more.

Stoick the Vast was gone.

Hiccup the Dragon Master would survive.


	2. Part II: Father

**a.n. I'm finally back with a new chapter of this story. I still don't know when I'll get a chance to update it, but I hope that the rest of the updates will go out a little quicker than this one did. As I've said before, there will be 10 parts to this story, and while what the theme of each chapter will be, I'll still have to write them up. Please bear with me as I work on getting it all done.**

**I had about half of this chapter written up when I posted the first chapter and I kind of forgot where I was going with this, so I hope it flows well. I really look forward to reading your thoughts and comments on it so please, read, review, and enjoy!**

* * *

**Part II: Father**

It was only after Toothless was gone that he really realized what he had just done.

He had pushed his best friend away.

The black dragon had always been there for him when he had needed him the most:

Toothless had trusted him with his life when he had been grounded and Hiccup wouldn't kill him.

The Night Fury had roared to the rescue when all of Berk, his father included, had turned on him.

The faithful reptile had rescued him from the Green Death when he faced his own mortality and his death seemed a certainty.

The loyal dragon had stayed by his side through the long, often painful, recovery process after he had lost his leg.

And his best friend had stuck with him, through thick and thin, through the good times and the bad, no matter what, these last five years. Their relationship had had its ups and its downs but they never failed to come back to one another, not once, and nothing, nobody, had ever been able to tear them apart.

Until now.

And it hadn't been some outside malevolent force bent on destroying dragons or any dragon-fearing Vikings that wanted revenge on him or his father.

It had been him, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, son of Valka and Stoick the Vast, future chief of Berk, dragon rider, dragon trainer, a friend to all dragons, who had deliberately, cruelly, pushed his first true friend away and he had felt no remorse for it, no sorrow, no regret. He only felt rage towards the one that had killed his father, no matter how unintentional it had been.

Another one gone. Another loved one taken away.

But _this_ one was _his _fault.

There was nothing he could have done to prevent his mother from being taken two decades ago; she had come back into his life anyway. There was nothing he could have done to prevent his father's death; he knew Stoick would gladly have given his life a thousand times over to save that of his only son.

Yet this…he could have stopped this. He should have stopped it.

He _would_ have stopped it if the sight of his father lying motionless hadn't consumed him. He was too distraught to even register anything else and only when he heard the anguished cries of his dragon as he was ridden away by Drago did he realize what happened.

He had let his best friend down, just as he had let his people down, let his mother down, let _himself_ down.

Just as he had let his father down.

If he had stayed on Berk when his father had told him to, none of this would have happened. He would never have drawn out Drago, this war wouldn't have started, Toothless would still be by his side.

And Stoick would still be here, a toothy grin on his face, his boisterous laugh echoing across the land.

He cried for all that he lost, for all that was taken from him.

He cried for the countless dragons, including his beloved Night Fury, that were now under the merciless control of Drago.

He cried for the people of Berk who had lost their chief.

He cried for his mother who had been briefly reunited with the love of her life before she was ripped away from him again.

He cried for his father, a great man who now feasted in the halls of Valhalla.

He cried for himself, the lost, lonely boy who had only really gotten to know the great man his father was and who now had to find a way to go on, to survive without him.

Throughout his life, he had always depended upon his father. As the only parental figure in his life, Stoick was the one Hiccup could come to for love and comfort, for protection and security. Even as he got older and they grew more and more apart, he still did his best to be the kind of Viking his father was, the kind of Viking he knew his father wanted him to be. He had never wanted to disappoint the man, but even his best attempts weren't good enough. He screwed up more than once and constantly lived up to his name as a Hiccup. He knew his father loved him, that he would always love him, but somehow, every time he looked into his father's eyes, he never saw pride in them, never found the approval that he so desperately sought.

The dragon fiasco had seriously threatened their already strained relationship and when Stoick angrily declared that Hiccup was no longer his son, he felt his world crash down around him. As much as he had screwed up in the past, as much of a hiccup he had been, he had never lost his father's love. Suddenly, he had disappointed the one man he had never wanted to, the one person who had put up with all of his stumbles and falls, the one person who had defended him against the naysayers (which, coincidentally, had pretty much been the entire village). There had been no worse feeling than knowing how much he had let his father down, even though he knew that by standing up for the dragons he was saving everyone, Viking and dragon alike. As much as he believed in his cause, as devoted as he was to it, losing his father's respect cut him deeply.

They had come a long way since then; the last five years had been the best they'd ever had. The two of them had grown closer, so much so that he could almost forget the tense fifteen years that came before. His father had let him integrate the dragons into all aspects of village life, had trusted his judgment in that matter, and Berk had never been more prosperous. For the first time in centuries, Vikings and dragons were at peace and everyone was happy. Father and son had come to a good place, they were working together, training together, teaching one another. True, their relationship had been strained in recent days, but Hiccup had truly believed that they would be able to get past it and that they would have many more enjoyable times and happy years together.

All of those hopes and dreams suddenly vanished as he felt his father push him out of the way, taking a direct hit from the plasma blast. He couldn't believe his eyes as the smoke cleared and he looked down at his father's lifeless body.

He was gone.

And now it had happened again.

He had just lost his father and now, through his own unforgiveable actions, he had lost his best friend.

His father had once called him the Pride of Berk. To earn such a title, from his father no less, always gave him a sense of pride, as if everything he had been through, the good times and the bad, had led to that moment. He appreciated the sentiment from the others, but he normally just shook it off with his usual nonchalance and accepted it as part of life being the heir to the chiefdom. But when his father said it, his heart swelled with delight, in spite of the embarrassment. To know that his father truly accepted him for who he was, that he didn't have to try to be someone he wasn't or try to prove himself anymore, it was the best feeling in the world to him.

Even better than flying on Toothless.

Looking around him at his mother, Astrid, Gobber, and his friends, he remembered that he wasn't the only one who had lost something today. He wasn't the only one that had looked up to his father. As chief, Stoick the Vast was well-respected and well-regarded among the Berkians. He was strong and brave, shrewd in both battle and diplomacy, and the best warrior that Berk had to offer. Hiccup had always been proud to call the man his father and he knew that as difficult as it would be, he would have to take his father's place. He hadn't wanted it, no matter how much his father had bragged about his abilities or how loudly he had proclaimed that he was ready for this. It never felt right to think that the great man that was Stoick the Vast could ever be replaced.

Being chief one day was his birthright and as much as he may have wanted it when he was younger, when he still had to prove himself to his father, it hadn't really concerned him much recently. He was more content with exploring and being with Toothless and the other dragons. It wasn't that he didn't think he could do it; he had faith in himself just as his father did. He just never thought that he would be able to live up to his father's impressive legacy. Stoick was a legend among men, a god among mortals; there was a lot of pressure to live up to that.

He certainly wasn't doing a very good job of it right now. He had taken off to search for Drago, in spite of his father's dire warnings. He hadn't turned back when Stoick had tracked him to Eret's ship and had asked him to return to Berk. And when he had attempted to resolve things with Drago, unheeding of the words of both of his parents, his father had been dragged into it at the cost of his own life. Now, his best friend was gone and the world around him had descended into chaos and destruction.

Yet, as he watched Drago fly away on Toothless, he felt a renewed sense of purpose flow through him. Yes, he had failed his father, his friends, and his people. Yes, he had allowed his own naiveté and inexperience with diplomacy and worldly matters get the better of him as he foolishly thought he could change the deranged man's mind. Yes, he had lost more today due to his own hardheadedness and stubbornness. But, he was his father's son. He was Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, son of Valka and Stoick the Vast, dragon rider, dragon trainer, a friend to all dragons.

The new chief of Berk.

_A chief protects his own._ His father's words echoed in his head as he stared determinedly into the distance, a stoic look on his face. He would right the wrongs committed today and restore peace.

For his people, for the dragons, for himself.

For his father.


	3. Part III: Husband

**a.n. Back with an update in just under a year. Surprised? Me too. I've gotten my passion back for this story so I'm hoping to get the updates out faster, though personal obligations will mean the updates will not be going out as quickly as I would like. Please read, review, and enjoy.**

* * *

**Part III: Husband**

A startled gasp involuntarily escaped from her lips as she watched the scene play out before her: Stoick rushing towards Hiccup as his Night Fury, under the complete control of Drago and his Bewilderbeast, stalked towards him. She saw the fear and realization in her son's eyes as he reached out a hand to both sides, knowing what was coming and desperate to stop it. The sounds of battle behind her slowly faded from her awareness as all her senses focused on the scene in front of her. She watched as Hiccup, seemingly recovered from his expected shock, rushed over to his father's side, pulling ice fragments off of his still body. The world seemed to stand still as she rushed to the two of them, hoping against hope that her eyes were deceiving her, that her mind was playing tricks on her.

"Stoick."

Arriving at her son's side, she gently, but determinedly, pulled her husband's form over and towards her to place her ear against his chest. Years of living alone amongs her dragons had heightened her senses and she strained her sensitive ears listening for even the slightest sign of life within his chest, for the tiniest flutter of his still body. Tears threatened to come when she received no response, no indication that her beloved would wake up ever again. Defeated, she looked up at Hiccup, her sad green eyes looking into his. She watched as his face fell as if his whole world had suddenly crumbled before him. In a way, she supposed, it had.

Too soon.

It had been too soon.

After years apart, they had unexpectedly just rediscovered each other and now they were just as swiftly torn apart again until the time came for her to follow him to Valhalla. For twenty years she had wondered what had happened to him after she had gone off with Cloudjumper, what he must have been thinking, what he must have felt, as the Stormcutter carried her off. In the beginning, she had been tempted to return to him, to their little family. He was her husband and she had loved him with every fiber of her being. She had never stopped loving him either, even when they had quarreled over the dragons and her un-Viking-like attitude towards them. Neither of them would ever back down or concede to the other, yet they continued loving each other in spite of that vast difference. Just the thought of being gone from him, not sure when or if she would ever see him again, was nearly enough for her to return to Berk and his side.

But fear for the safety of her new-found dragon friend, for all of dragonkind, had won out in the end and she stayed away to protect them, even though it meant leaving her husband behind. She couldn't stick around Berk any longer, not when it meant that the dragons would still be in danger. She couldn't just stand by and watch them get killed anymore; she couldn't remain a loyal Berkian when her pleas of peace and non-violence went unheeded by her people. The dragons had needed her. As much as it hurt to leave Stoick and her wee babe behind, she knew that the decision she had made long ago to leave her old life behind and begin anew with the dragons had been the right one.

Looking to her side, she saw her son struggling to come to terms with what had happened. His whispered denials paned her, and she had to look away to stop herself from crying her front of him. When she had been forced to leave him behind twenty years ago, he had been just a tiny little thing, crying out for the mother who was abruptly wrenched from his side. Now, he was a young man crying over the father who had been suddenly and irrevocably taken from him.

She wanted to reach out and comfort him, to console her heartbroken child, as he sobbed over his father's dead body, but she wasn't sure how. She hadn't really ever had the chance to be a mother to him. She'd spent twenty years rescuing and comforting dragons of all ages and species; she could quiet a crying baby Nadder with a loving word or reassure an injured Hobblegrunt with a gentle caress or soothe a grizzled old Monstrous Nightmare as it passed on while she held its mighty head in her lap. But this was something she was completely unfamiliar with. The best she could think to do was to wrap an arm around Hiccup's shoulder as he cried, silently lending him whatever support and consolation she could.

A new person, the young blonde-haired woman she had glimpsed earlier, ran over from her dragon and took her place by his other side. They glanced briefly at one another as she placed a hand softly on his shoulder. She didn't expect her son to lean away from her embrace within moments of that contact. It was a nearly imperceptible gesture, likely unconscious on his part and unnoticed by everyone else, but her keen senses detected it. She watched as he leaned into the young woman's gentle touch, drawing comfort from her proximity. She shouldn't have been so shocked; her son was practically grown after all and had never really felt the soothing warmth of a mother's touch. It wasn't a surprise that he would seek solace from someone she could tell deeply cared for him. She loosened her grip on him, unwillingly to let him completely out of her grasp, trying not to lose herself in her grief.

The rest of the Berk contingent came and gathered in front of their fallen chief, all of them silently weeping for their great leader and his distraught son and she couldn't help the melancholy look on her face as she watched the mourners. Her husband had been loved and respected by his people and his friends. And he had been cherished by his son. He would be greatly missed by all who knew him. Even the dragons were silent as they paid their respects to the great man that Stoick had been.

Valka watched as the lone Night Fury, free from the bewilderment that had momentarily overtaken him, looked curiously at the group gathered around the still body. She could see the confusion in his eyes as he slowly, cautiously, approached them, snout reaching out to nudge the man that had been an important part of his life because he had been important to Hiccup. To see his rider, his best friend, in such pain, even though he didn't yet know why or how Hiccup could be so despondent, could only be devastating for the poor dragon.

Hiccup's subsequent action only shocked the dragon, and, if she had to admit it to herself, her as well. She had witnessed how close the two were, how fiercely protective they were of each other and how much they cared for one another. Pushing away his best friend, shouting at him to leave, was an upsetting blow to Toothless. When Hiccup stopped his Night Fury's advances, spurning the one creature she knew he loved above all else, there was pain in his voice. He was hurt. She was too. How could she not be? This man was…had been her beloved, her husband, the father of her child and now that he was gone, a part of her, a part of her that she had thought lost long ago, a part that she had only hours ago rediscovered and reluctantly embraced, had finally died. But, she had had twenty long lonely years to grieve him, to mourn for the love she had lost. It hurt, and those precious few moments they had shared not long ago reopened the wound on her heart she had tried to keep closed. She'd never forget him; her mind may have made her believe she had moved on from him, but her heart never had, and it never would.

She didn't think Hiccup saw the aggrieved expression on his poor dragons' face. She couldn't fault him for his hurt over the dragon's unwitting actions, but she knew Toothless was hurting just as much as her son, maybe more so. While she didn't yet know the full story behind her son and Toothless and the dragon riders of Berk, she had sensed that there was some kind of connection between Stoick and the black dragon, a mutual respect born out of their shared love for Hiccup. It was more than probable that they had not always seen eye-to-eye; in fact, knowing that her husband was the symbol for Viking stubbornness and the Night Fury's own independent nature, it was a given that they had butt heads on more than one occasion. Seeing the look in the dragon's eyes now and the deeply remorseful expression on his face told her that there had been a deeper connection between the two than she was sure Hiccup ever knew. Knowing dragons as she did, the Night Fury's anguish and sorrow over what happened was obvious. He knew that he had deeply hurt his boy. There would certainly be a long road of healing ahead for the both of them, if her son would only forgive the poor dragon.

"It's not his fault. You know that." She tried to reason with her son as he collapsed in anger. She watched the ebony dragon walk away, staring at him with sorrow etched on her face. She turned back towards Hiccup, hoping to calm him down and get him to see past the veil of hatred that was clouding his mind. "Good dragons…under the control of bad people…do bad things."

It wasn't until they heard a pained roar and Drago's cries of war that they realized what was going on:

He had unwittingly pushed Toothless into the hands of that malicious madman. She knew Hiccup had regretted his actions the moment he saw Drago clumsily riding away on his dragon. He scrambled up to go after the pair. Knowing it was futile, she stopped him.

"No, don't." She saw his heart break all over again as he watched them fly away, realizing that he may have lost both his father and best friend that day to the evil man.

As she held him in her arms, she whispered a silent prayer to the gods.

The Bewilderbeast, her friend and protector these last twenty years, was gone.

Dozens of her dragon companions had been slaughtered or conscripted into Drago's terrible army.

Her beloved husband had been taken from her much too soon.

She didn't want to lose her son too.


End file.
